26
PASSING THE GIPSY CAMP.
. . . There! she will turn one's head with the stuff
That dreams are made of, if one will let her!
I can tell you, and true enough,
Something as good, or better.
That dreams are made of, if one will let her!
I can tell you, and true enough,
Something as good, or better.
Never the President will you be,
None of you—not if you do grow older;
Nor the greatest of generals—bright with three
Stars or so, on the shoulder.
None of you—not if you do grow older;
Nor the greatest of generals—bright with three
Stars or so, on the shoulder.
But the pretty summers will come to you,
With blossoms to find and wings to follow;
And I'd say a world where strawberries grew,
Of a truth was not quite hollow.
With blossoms to find and wings to follow;
And I'd say a world where strawberries grew,
Of a truth was not quite hollow.
Sometimes you will come to grief, no doubt.
Most of us do. But we have to take it.
. . . Oh, I should have left the trouble out
Of this world—had I helped to make it!
Most of us do. But we have to take it.
. . . Oh, I should have left the trouble out
Of this world—had I helped to make it!
At last you will shut your eyes and forget
That red-birds fly, or that cow-bells tinkle;
And sleep, though the suns shall rise and set,—
Oh, longer than Rip Van Winkle!
That red-birds fly, or that cow-bells tinkle;
And sleep, though the suns shall rise and set,—
Oh, longer than Rip Van Winkle!
